Today
Today a friend lost her 8year old daughter. 8 years old. I can hardly believe the words I am writing. I met this little girl the day she was born. She was born with a broken heart and died with a broken body. Countless surgeries and interventions and prayers have led to today. Today is a day that will change the lives of her family for the rest of their lives. They knew it was coming, but no one knew this day was coming so soon.
Her mom posted “I miss holding her hand and her little grins, but I know I’ll see her again.” I keep going back to the image of mom and daughter hand in hand. My daughter is just 4, half as old as the daughter who was lost today. I hold my daughter’s hand to keep her from getting lost, to keep her safe from the dangers of the world, to redirect her steps, to pull her up when she falls (sometimes to keep her from falling) and to restrain her from impulses she doesn’t see the consequences of. I hold her hand to save her. But do I hold her hand just because it is there? Do I hold her hand and skip down the sidewalk? Do I hold her hand to squeeze it 3 times (our code I Love You)? Do I hold her hand for no reason at all?
I believe that we were made uniquely by a loving God who wants to be part of our every day life. Who wants us to walk each day holding His hand. One of His names in the Bible is Abba, Father. He is a Father that stands with his hand out stretched to us to hold; by starting our day with prayer, by opening the Bible, by turning our attention to Him. Many days I only turn to grab His hand when there is danger, when the world is unpredictable and scary, when pain threatens to drown me where I stand.
Today an 8 year old little girl is in heaven, holding her true Father’s hand. Her body is no longer broken, she is perfection and in a perfect place. Today may we all stop and reach for our Father’s hand, not waiting for a time we need need saving, but just because. Today may we love our own children like God loves us, with our hand stretched out to them just because we love them.
